The Reality Is
by Anesther
Summary: It simply is.


AN: Sort of AR-ish. Set in canon but certain things are twisted to fit this lil' thing. It'll make sense (I hope) if read.

Rated T: for some sensual themes

* * *

_The Reality Is_

* * *

He destroyed her.

A connection she's known since _before birth and time _and he severed it swiftly—the way ignorance does.

She had no sense of self: incomplete, halved, a phantom in place of where her counterpart used to be.

She hated the man for a while, and wished him to crawl back into the mud.

X

The reality is she owed him her life.

Among people who despised spirits, and in her weakening state, he rushed forward _without thought _to protect what would only be _reborn again_.

He looked at her with concern etched in his weary face, shadows beneath his eyes; he was so tired.

She allowed him to sleep long after the dawn, after the months of pushing him physically in learning the elements and turning him into an insomniac.

She could do that much for him.

X

The reality is he loved her.

He'd gaze at her adoringly and she'd feign that same deplorable blasted ignorance.

In the beginning though, she attributed it to nothing—humans become attached quite easily to anyone or anything, if they let themselves. Plus, considering their perils faced together, she only assumed this was one of those reasons why. Bonds tended to start when facing the end.

She continued pretending his love didn't exist, and he'd follow her even though she made him a ghost.

He had a heavy debt to pay anyway.

X

The reality is she was just not sure how to deal with it.

He was certainly _unlike _any other human she's ever met, but that did not constitute reciprocating these feelings or even acknowledging them.

It was not the spirit's way; not _her _way.

There would be nothing good to come of it.

X

The reality is she failed herself.

Emotions would stir when he'd come to her aid, or she his.

She'd imagine drifting up to his back and skimming the sinewy muscle, body tight with strain and faintly glistening with patinas of sweat in the sun.

She'd no idea where these desires came from. And it bothered her… that she wasn't the cause of burning skin and labored groans.

X

The reality is she loved him too, but.

Without lips, how could she kiss him and feel the vibrations of his voice?

Without hands, how could she make him moan out her name, the way she hears him in his sleep?

Without a human form, how could she be one with him in body the way she was in spirit?

She cannot change who she is and always will be.

She was light, and peace, and good—virtues that she'd gladly trade for hands and darker thoughts.

To be as gray as her human wouldn't bother her at all; they'd finally be the same shade.

X

The reality is he didn't care.

He loved her too much.

Even when women—_actual _women: flesh and curves and bright smiles—threw themselves at his feet for various reasons, for her human was handsome, he'd politely refuse and return to her; always to her.

She felt terrible and happy.

He should live a normal life, inconsequential to the promise he carried on his shoulders, already losing zenith as he ages. He should have children, have solid _human_ bonds, have what should be his. He holds the world, not as a burden, but as a responsibility that he told her he owes.

He doesn't know how much he's sacrificing by continuing to help her, long after her other half was sealed into time and all its inanities.

He gave up much for both realms but he gave up much more for her.

He looked at her as though she was the center of the universe and she felt worthy of her title instead of simply born into it.

He knew her thoughts and set to assuage them as much, as fervently, as lovingly as possible.

_But what about later, when everyone else has little ones and they are free to do as they please?_

_ I'll still have you._

She wanted to pull him close until his gasps were the one sound she heard and his body was hotter than stars, brighter than her own light, powerful and distinct, shattering all she knew and it was only him: her _choice._

But that isn't their reality.

X

She couldn't even cry after his soul rose out of the husk, turning to clay and dust.

She has no eyes to cry with.

He usually wept for them both.

In love forever, bonded forever, but not _truly _together.

It should've been enough; but he was human and she learned from him how _to_ _want._

They're too selfish, too connected to leave each other.

She does her duty and he does his, encased in young hearts and they hope these children might be happier, despite the burden they must put on them.

The reality is.

It simply is.


End file.
